


From the Corner of my Eye

by ShebaRen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, No Angst, no kanima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShebaRen/pseuds/ShebaRen
Summary: Jackson has been turned into a Werewolf. It’s surprisingly not terrible.





	From the Corner of my Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/gifts).



> I'm sorry, this is probably not what you expected. To be honest, it wasn't quite what I expected either, I had to toss a lot. As it is I didn't get around to the Mates bit, though if you squint, they maybe, possibly, could be mates in the future? Again, sorry. >_< I hope you enjoy this piece of fluff nonetheless.
> 
> Also, a shout out to Greenie for giving this a quick once-over!

It's not that Stiles is paying a lot of attention to Jackson when he's around. Well, okay, he does. But only because he's a rival for his feelings for Lydia! He has maybe stared a bit. Once. Maybe twice. And that one time in the locker room was an accident, he knows the locker room is a no-staring zone. He was staring at nothing and thinking, okay?  Jackson was just standing in the wrong spot at the wrong time.

 

Having the douche as a rival, it's natural to know things about him. Know your enemy and all that. It's important to look for his car first thing in the morning. If it's not there, he has a chance to maybe talk to Lydia before classes. That he keeps on the lookout for it is just survival instinct. Wouldn't do to make a unfortunate collision with a locker because Jackson saw him talking to Lydia.

 

There's nothing wrong with noticing things about Jackson. Stiles would have been a pretty unobservant person not to. Watching Lydia means automatically watching Jackson, too. He can't help to notice that Jackson doesn't particularly like carrots. Or that he has a lucky sweater he always wears before games. It's just a byproduct. He sometimes uses it to exact a bit of petty revenge for the times Jackson is meaner than usual.

 

It also means that Stiles is the first to notice that something isn't right.

 

He's gotten a bit distracted for a while, what with everything going wolf-shaped after that one night out in the woods. It's strange to return to normalcy after everything and Stiles doesn't quite manage. Which is the only reason, really, why the fact that Jackson is wearing his t-shirt on backwards catches his attention. 

 

Any other person and you could excuse it with sloppiness or a bad day. Not Jackson though. That guy takes forever in the morning to get ready. Everything is styled to perfection, no hair out of place. That t-shirt? An abomination. Stiles doesn’t know how the rest of the school hasn’t declared the world ending yet.

 

When he shares his thoughts with Scott at lunch though, Scott just gives him a weird look and a shrug. “It’s nice to know that even Jackson can have a bad day,” is the only thing he says before he goes back to looking at Allison adoringly. 

 

“But Jackson's never had a bad day in his life!” Stiles protests, craning his head to get a better look at Jackson across the dining hall. Scott has to snatch his arm to prevent him from falling on his ass from the action. His indignant squawk and Scott’s laugh draw stares, but in the ensuing struggle to get Scott to shut up he manages to shove the Jackson issue into the back of his brain and forget about it for the moment.

 

***

 

Three days later the school is buzzing with the latest gossip. Apparently Lydia broke up with Jackson via text message. The rumors are proven true, when half the school witnesses Lydia ignoring Jackson during lunch in order so sit on Dave Trellis lap and kiss him.

 

Scott elbows Stiles in the side. “This could be your chance with Lydia!” 

 

Halfheartedly he nods and makes a vague agreeing noise. But he’s not excited at the thought as he could have been. To be honest, he thinks it’s a bit of a dick move what Lydia’s doing. He doesn’t really know what he should do with that thought, though, so he goes back to his own lunch and tries not to think too much about it at all.

 

***

 

For some reason Stiles doesn’t stop watching Jackson though.

 

He watches as Jackson seems to come undone at the seams over the next several weeks. Wrinkles in his shirts, hair without product and deep rings under his eyes are only the superficial effects of whatever it is that is bothering Jackson.

 

Maybe it’s the break up. But somehow that thought doesn’t sit right with Stiles. Probably because it was already happening by the time Lydia dropped Jackson like a hot potato.  

 

One morning Stiles watches him emerge from his car with a frankly alarming case of bedhead and futilely trying to hide a yawn behind his hand. Instead of prowling into the school he leans into the side of his car, scratching his head and tipping his head back blinking. He’s practically basking in the morning sun and Stiles is a bit embarrassed to admit that he forgets for a moment why he’s watching and just admires the compact lines of Jackson, framed by the low sun spilling into the parking lot. 

 

As he stares at the sight, he has a terrible realization. He hides his face in his hands like he can hide from it as he lets out a low “Nooooo…“.

 

Scott, his best friend, his buddy, his brother from another mother, who watched the entire thing next to him, just pats his back in sympathy.

 

“I didn’t just look at him because he’s a rival for Lydia's affection,“ he despairs as they watch Jackson saunter into school.

 

“You didn't,“ Scott agrees amiably as he wiggles his fingers in Allisons direction.

 

“I… am so embarrassed right now.“ 

 

***

 

The reason for Jacksons unkempt state becomes suddenly clear, when Stiles visits Derek's new abode in order to ask few (okay, a lot of) questions after a night of research on werewolves on a saturday afternoon. 

 

Because right there on the curb stands a very familiar Porsche. 

 

Derek, when he opens the door, looks harassed.

 

“Stiles. I have no time for you right now.”

 

Craning his head, Stiles tries to get a look at the apartment, blurting out: “Do you have Jackson in there? Is he really a werewolf? Are you werewolf training him? Can I watch?!?”

 

“No.”

 

“What’s Stilinski doing here?” A voice ask, and it’s indeed Jackson who’s coming to stand beside Derek in the doorway. 

 

“I can help,” Stiles blurts out without thinking. 

 

“What?” Jackson asks with a frown. 

 

Derek only answers with a clipped “No” and folds his arms.

 

“Come on, you know I can do it,” he wheedles. “I did it with Scott.” Derek looks considering at that.

 

Jackson, who had been looking between them, seemed to get a clue. “You can’t fob me off to Stilinski,” he protests, when he sees Derek’s face. Curiously he starts blushing as he says it.

 

Stiles has no time to think about it though, because he’s too busy fistpumping in the air when Derek says: “Ok, you can help. You’ll have to do it elsewhere though.” He ignores Jackson’s protests and pushes him out the door before he closes it in their faces.

 

It’s a good thing Stiles is too excited, because before he can think or freak out about it, he’s taking Jackson’s hand and begins pulling him outside, all the while babbling about what he’s tried with Scott and asking Jackson what he’s done with Derek already.

 

It’s only when they’re outside next to the Jeep and Jackson doesn’t answer his questions that Stiles realizes that they’re still holding hands. Stiles blushes and drops his hand.

 

Jackson looks sullen and won't meet his eyes when he asks, "So, where should we do this?"    
  
Stiles considers the question. "Well, Scott and I went to the lacrosse field after school. It's pretty deserted-"    
  
"No way," Jackson interjects with a scowl, "Somebody could come by and see us by accident."   
  
"Okay, genius, where else should we go? Your house?"   
  
Jackson looks like hadn't considered that. He eyes Stiles. "At least you're easier to explain away than Hale."   
  
Stiles snorts out a laugh. "True."   
  
***   
  
Being in Jackson's home is strange. Everything looks tidy, like straight out of a furniture catalogue. The Whittemores probably had a cleaning service, because the few times he's seen Jackson’s parents didn't give the impression that Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore were the people to do something as menial as use a vacuum. It gives the house an empty feeling.    
  
Only Jackson's room looks like it's supposed to; there are dirty clothes everywhere. On the walls are posters of Lacrosse players and his stick is leaning next to the door. The desk by the window is surprisingly neat. Not so surprising is the state of the art TV and console set-up, together with a comfy couch he can glimpse through the open doorway of the next room. From the corner of his eyes he can see Jackson shuffle some dirty socks under the bed. He hides a grin.

 

“Alright.” Stiles sits down on the bed with a flourish, bouncing slightly. Nice. “What did Derek do with you?”

 

“Mostly growl at me a lot,” Jackson deadpans.

 

Stiles snorts. “Sounds like Derek, alright.”

 

Jackson watches him. “You are pretty chill with hanging out with me.”

 

“You’re pretty chill with me being here,” he shoots back. His face feels warm. 

 

Now it’s Jackson turn to blush. “Yes, well…” he murmurs and crosses his arms.

 

There’s a moment where neither of them can look the other in the eye. Then Jackson heaves a sigh and sits down on the chair by his desk and outlines the exercises Derek had him do. Stiles suppresses the urge to pout. He’d thought that maybe he would sit down beside him on the bed, but he shoves that thought aside to listen.

 

Mostly Derek had Jackson exercise until he dropped and had no energy left to shift, which kind of explains a lot. He nods and then launches in a elaborate explanation on the research he’s done on the topic since Scott has been bitten.

 

It’s surprising how good they get along. Jackson is… calmer, somehow, more at ease with himself. The change looks good on him. It doesn’t help his crush one bit. He lets Jackson demonstrate his shift and it’s cute how the fur that sprouts is the same sandy colour as his hair. In return, Stiles tells him all about Derek’s uncle the crazy alpha and everything that happened after Scott has been bitten. Not surprisingly, Derek hasn’t told Jackson a lot about anything. 

 

Before long it’s almost nine o’clock and Stiles’ stomach disrupts their discussion with an aggressive growl.

 

Stiles laughs a bit embarrassed at himself, but Jackson is grinning at him and not making fun, so it’s okay. 

 

Jackson, who had migrated to the bed somewhere in the last two hours while neither of them were paying attention, asks him: “Do you want to order pizza? We could take a break from werewolves. Maybe watch a movie - I know you looked at my setup.” He’s sporting an infuriating little smirk. Stiles wants to tell him that he’d really like to look at Jackson’s  _ setup _ , but chickens out, just giggles manically for a minute.

 

But he doesn’t say no to an opportunity to spend more time with Jackson. While Jackson’s distracted with ordering their food he frantically texts Scott.

 

Stiles:  _ DUDE, TAKEOUT + MOVIE = DATE?!?!? _

 

Scott:  _??? _

Stiles:  _ one word: Jackson _

 

Scott:  _ What!!!! how??? :D tell me everything _

 

Stiles:  _ tmrrw, busy rn :))) _

 

Scott:  _ get him, tiger! _

 

He puts his phone away when Jackson finishes his call and eagerly follows him into his den. They use the time until their food arrives to squabble over which movie to watch first. It’s funny; Half a year ago they would have probably killed each other before agreeing on a movie, and yet here they are. For some reason Stiles can’t stop smiling.

 

They’re on their second movie, when Stiles notices that Jackson had been steadily inching closer. He doesn’t comment, just shuffles around a bit so their shoulders are touching. Next to him he can feel Jackson relax.

 

By their third movie they are both comfortably slouched down, not even pretending anymore that they are not cuddling. Stiles is nestled into his side, one arm thrown over Jackson’s stomach and Jackson’s left arm is draped over his shoulders. He could lie like this forever; not even bro-cuddling with Scott feels as nice as this.

 

Stiles eyes are drifting shut of their own volition more often than not and he’s idly debating whether he should drive home or just sleep right here, if Jackson would mind, or if he’s right in thinking that he wouldn’t. Under him he can feel Jacksons chest contract as he lets out a sigh. He cranes his head to look at his face, expectant.

 

“Lydia was freaked out by the wolf thing,” Jackson admits in a murmur, completely out of context. He’s still looking at the TV.

 

Even as tired as he is, Stiles manages an unimpressed snort. “Obviously, I’m not,” he says. Feeling bold, he moves the arm he’s draped over Jackson to entwine his fingers with Jackson’s.

 

The other boy moves away from him, and for a single moment Stiles heart plummets in dread; of course he’s read this completely wrong, god- But Jackson doesn’t let go of his hand. Instead, he squeezes it once and wiggles further down the cushions so that they are now lying side by side. The dim lightning of the the still running screen let’s Stiles see the smile he’s sporting. It’s a private little thing and it transforms Jackson’s entire face. It makes him want to kiss him, and so. He just does. 

 

They trade lazy kisses for a while, made sloppy by their tiredness. It’s as awesome as Stiles has always imagined, and he feels like kissing could easily turn into more. But they’re too tired to do much tonight and by an unspoken agreement they slowly peter out. Just lying there, breathing in each other’s space and being close is enough for now, until at least sleep claims them.

 

***

 

On Monday morning, Stiles and Scott are standing in front of the school. Stiles is watching the parking lot entrance, with a wide grin and badly concealed excitement, until a familiar porsche arrives. 

 

When Jackson exits the car he looks around. Their eyes meet across the parking space and Stiles doesn’t even hear Scott’s snort of amusement, before he’s off.

 

Because Jackson smiled the same little smile he’s greeted Stiles with, yesterday morning, just before kissing him again.

  
And Stiles doesn’t have to content himself with just watching anymore, not when he can touch, can  _ kiss _ Jackson now.


End file.
